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Il fine giustifica i mezzi, e Firenze

Rediscovering my sweet and crazy country since I decided to get back after the GP in Monte Carlo to stay with my family. I spent 6 months away from Italy and as usual, if I am upset when I leave the French Riviera, as I touch my native city, Livorno, I feel energized; I want to reverse all the energies and inspiration gathered in the region where the biggest came for the same inspiring needs (Churchill, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, the Lumieres brothers used to stroll in the bar down my house) in my town and overall in the country. There are so many citizens complaining that there’s nothing to do, but it’s quite the contrary: the truth is that if you are poor of spirit you’ll be bored anywhere, in fact I hear the same in Monaco. Moral: I party and work more, and detox will be delayed further… I am also celebrating success in advance as it is already here, where I am and with who I want to be. Success is feeling the pieces of the puzzles have fallen right, so I am already successful, as I’ve lost the one person that retained me to spread my talents fully and grow. I am not blaming him since I managed to work anyway and cut my frames of freedom secretly, but I did half the things I could have done anyway. When you feel that somebody claiming he loves you slows you, better to leave him behind. It’s selfishness and insecurity to cut and downgrade anybody’s potential, let alone your partner. After the sun sets, there will be a new dawn.

So, what am I doing in Florence? I was supposed to go back to Monaco on the 8th, then left my luggage to my father saying I’d go the next week, then on the Monday I told him to bring it back and that I would go to Milan and come to Livorno instead, then I hit Florence to attend a Pitti Uomo (it’s kind of a fashion week) event, and then I mysteriously sense that there’s no reason to escape from Tuscany running behind every sort of distraction as I am focused and very much appeased here.

There’s a secret, and his name derives from andros, which is coincidentally the bone of my very name. Eve has one rib more than Adam, and I do not believe in coincidences: in Rav Isaac Louria’s vision, coincidences are just the sparkles that God left when he retired from the world. I agree, bad things happen in this world, but the good things–those miraculous “coincidences”–give sense and beauty to any individual life. Before even embracing Judaism I used to say that everything is written, but it’s up to us to choose to be happy. Later I casually step on Rav Resnick’s quote “pain is a reality, suffering is a choice,” and I discover that this is also a pillar of the religion. We are born to praise God, not to complain, and we must cherish His greatness fighting for the righteous thing. Coincidences are a step on this direction because they are His sparkles, and we must catch their meaning and get the best of them. Andro helps me, he’s complementary to what I am and what I am doing, he is my business partner and my bone.

My life and essence was born in Tuscany and received inspiration in French Riviera, so I need to praise and help Italy as much as I can. With this government also giving me orgasms in each steps I take without underwear we can only imagine the best outcomes. Should I restart wearing panties?

Italy is continuous enjoyment, we have the best cities, landscape and food in the world. If you go on a supermarket the vegetables you’ll see will look enormous, like OGM, after you’ve spent months abroad. The more you go North, the more they shrink: is it like the cultural gap that renders it harder and harder to have a proper relationship? There’s an italian saying going literally “choose wives and cattle from your hometown,” which means stick to your own kind: I neglected it the past 3 years engaging in a France-England war on who was best, and I am happy I didn’t last 100 years before understanding that I should privilege Italian men. I am lacking a Russian to improve the language, and a full fledged Jew to improve my little Hebrew and knowledge, but I won’t be back to Monaco or traveling with no clue to chase experiences when I am good here.

Gabriele Rastrelli must be starred immediately: in the dozens country I visited I never had such an orgasmic 6 courses dinner like the one we had in his restaurant “Il Cestello” in Florence, let alone in Robouchon which has 2 stars.

I remained in Florence, and I worked. I share my rib, and I don’t feel less complete.

Thank you Italy.

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